


The PL Glitch AU

by Spadder101



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Blood and Violence, KILLING PEOPLE FOR FUN AND PROFIT, M/M, This sounds a LOT less serious than it is, again i'll put tag warnings on the first page just GIVE ME A BIT, destroying coding for fun and profit, i guess?, i really dont know how else to tag it?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 14:52:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13766487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spadder101/pseuds/Spadder101
Summary: The whole world is a coded simulation, and the server exists to hold onto people and their world. Without prompt, a glitch begins to spread through humanity, destroying code and leaving it in Deadspace. Some learn how to harness the glitch's power, using it for their own gain, while others crop up as "glitch fighters", killing those who have glitched beyond return.But there's something else afoot. Something that no one's expecting.(CREDITS TO @trans-randall-ascot ON TUMBLR, https://trans-randall-ascot.tumblr.com )





	1. FOREWARNING

THESE ARE WARNINGS FOR EACH OF THE CHAPTERS THAT ARE BEING ADDED  
 ** **I manifested the virus because my coding is** ** _that_** **broken and I think that proves a lot about me as a person** : **No warnings to apply?

**I illegally edit the way people view the world temporarily because the commanding powers went inactive so they wouldn’t die which is selfish as fuck so you bet I’m gonna use my new found powers against them eventually. I just don’t know when:** mention of guns

**FCK DUDES I SURE LOVE DYING AND BEING DEAD** : Blood, nosebleeds, hitting people over the head with bats, fearing death

**LAST TIME WAS A FALSE ALARM IM ACTUALLY FUCKING DYING THIS TIME PLEASE HELP ME OH FUCKING LORD** : Mentions of death

**OH FUCK DUDES ITS DEADSPACE????** : Literally attempted murder

**CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER? DON’T KNOW HER** : Violence, shitty one-liners

**RANDALL DID YOU CUT YOURSELF ON THE GOBLET OF FIRE** : just a little bit of blood

**And this one I like to call “HHHHRRRRRNGGHHH: The musical”** : ACTUAL PHYSICAL DEATH, but only physical, violence, being stabbed

**Prompt: Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down! You don't want to get even more hurt, do you?:** Mentions of death?


	2. I manifested the virus because my coding is that broken and I think that proves a lot about me as a person

Clive knew how broken his coding was. It could only have been a matter of time before something finally turned malicious. Now, Clive already knew about the virus that was spreading through the systems. Of course, he was apprehensive. Was the virus that he’d actually  _ become _ the very same one? Or would its existence keep him safe from the destructive force that was wiping out entire cities?

 

He didn’t want to find out. The first virus had hit him hard enough, and it was taking him a while to recover.

 

He wasn’t entirely sure how it’d happened. Clive hadn’t tried to manipulate his code for a few months now. It was entirely unprompted. And that worried him. If his coding could spontaneously become malicious, then what could  _ other people’s _ do?

 

Clive didn’t want to think about it.

 

It had happened very suddenly while Clive was sat at home. He’d been working on something small to kill time, and he’d felt a spike of something through his chest.

 

‘ _ That’s not normal. _ ’ he thought.

 

Upon looking down, he realized he was right. His clothes had began to glitch, and quickly, Clive stood up, frozen by the entire shock of this. What had brought it on? Why was it in his chest? And why the  _ fuck _ did it burn?

 

Clive wanted to scratch and tear at it. He knew better, but it was searing. He wanted to tear all of the skin off of his chest. He could feel the virus trying to spread further and further. Clive knew what he had to do.

 

He very calmly moved over to the closest wall. Through the adrenaline spikes of the virus and the terror that was trying to replace all other emotion, he began to count.

 

“One, two, three-” Clive put his hands on the wall closing his eyes. “Time to say “Goodnight!””

 

Clive slammed his head against the wall. Instantly he collapsed, unconscious, to the base of the wall. The virus stopped spreading. It stayed, centered on his chest.

 

It hadn’t gone away, but it had stopped.

 

Since this, Clive had found himself trying to make himself scarce around populated areas- not that no one else was doing that, what with the fear of the virus- even taking to hiding himself under the guise of a cloaked man.

 

It had kept him safe, so far, but he needed to recover. His coding was still at risk, and he needed it stabilized. However, he found something he was able to do with this glitch. Sure, there might have been a possibility he could cause the virus to spread more, and he’d get deleted, but Clive didn’t really care for the world. It was post-apocalyptic, and it likely didn’t care for him.

 

He’d heard nothing of people who were half-glitched. He thought that perhaps he was an anomaly. A dangerous one. Focusing on the glitched part of his chest, Clive could feel static, but he could almost…  _ dive _ into the coding of the world. With his fingertips, he could create false realities- illusions. 

 

And he  _ knew _ these could hurt people. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he’d used a couple people as beta testers. He’d watched them trip, stumble, sustain bruises and cuts from what he created.

 

Clive knew that whatever he’d done, it was going to come in handy.

 

Creating illusion realities began to come easier to him. The more he practiced, the more vivid he could make them. The more dangerous he could make them. The best part was, he could totally fool people into thinking they were real. To them, he likely looked like he was an admin. Someone able to change the world at will. Corrupt, yes, but an admin.

 

Clive couldn’t wait to turn the whole world upside down with this. But first, he needed his code at  _ least _ a little stable. So, he had gone to join a group checking over a town that had already been ravaged. Maybe Clive could find something that explained  _ how _ the virus had developed inside him, why it had taken over his chest, and how  _ else _ he could use it.


	3. I illegally edit the way people view the world temporarily because the commanding powers went inactive so they wouldn’t die which is selfish as fuck so you bet I’m gonna use my new found powers against them eventually. I just don’t know when.

After finding another half-glitch, Hershel, Clive felt a little better about himself. Of course, it seemed like Hersh hadn’t been a half-glitch for long, and had no idea what might be possible. 

 

Clive was sort of excited to see what he was able to do.

 

He’d hoped it wouldn’t happen too soon. A sudden jolt into using the virus for your own favour might make it active again, and Hershel already looked a little too far gone to be alright. The virus had spread up the side of his face. That couldn’t have been good.

 

Unfortunately, the small group that Clive was with ran into trouble very  _ very _ soon. Of course thug groups had already cropped up. Apocalypse survival groups. Survival of the fittest, something something greed, kill anyone who enters your territory.

 

Absolute shit. Completely bullshit. Clive was in no mood to run into a bunch of self-proclaimed “virus hunters” who were dead-set on taking out any  _ actual _ hunters.

 

And of course half-glitches, but no one really knew about them.

 

A group of three had jumped them. Surprisingly, the six of them- including Hershel- were actually at a disadvantage. The three all had weapons that were more long range, while only one of Clive’s group had a gun.

 

Rolling his eyes as guns were pointed towards them, Clive began to focus on his glitched heart. The static burned, but Clive could feel reality in his fingertips. With a swipe, the world around the three- and Clive- changed drastically. The floor appeared to explode upwards, taking one of the group with it. Clive swung the other arm, and a large red and black tower of glitching debris fell upon the next of the group. Finally, he lunged forwards.

 

The whole reality seemed to distort, falling apart on the two, and with a click of his fingers, Clive returned to standing. The three were nowhere to be seen, and Clive’s glitch was starting to irritate.

 

“What was that?! Where did they go?” someone in the group sounded panicked. “What if they try to ambush us again?”

 

Clive let out a huff of laughter. “They won’t be bothering us again.”

 

He noticed a slight clip in his voice, as if reality hadn’t completely fixed itself from what he’d done. Hoping that no one else had, he continued to walk.

 

“Shouldn’t we be getting back soon?”


	4. FCK DUDES I SURE LOVE DYING AND BEING DEAD

Clive was no idiot. He knew that the more he created false realities, the stronger his virus became. He was pushing his coding too far too often, and what he did came back to bite in the end. Sharp pains, burning sensations and numbness was no longer what Clive felt. No, he was much too far gone for simple things like that.

 

He’d just finished created the most painful reality yet. His persistence into creating more and more vivid realities, more violent, more dangerous ones, was putting him into unbelievable amounts of danger.

 

His back hit hard against the wall, and Clive quickly tried to isolate the virus’ coding, like he’d always done. Unfortunately, he… couldn’t find it. His eyes darted across the coding frantically, and his panic kept on rising. The pain kept getting worse.

 

Clive’s hands began to shake, he could feel blood dripping from his nose, and it felt as if something was trying to break free from his chest. He opened his mouth to scream, but what came out was a garbled mess, and Clive began desperately trawling through his coding. He had to stop the virus, wherever it had gotten to.

 

Had it hidden itself? Was it smarter than him?!

 

He was terrified. He didn’t want to become a glitch. He didn’t want to get taken over by his virus.

 

Pushing his panic aside, Clive let a sharp huff out of his mouth- inadvertently spitting blood that had dripped from his nose- trying to stabilize himself and check his code again. He went along, piece by piece, before- finding the virus. It had splintered about, and Clive quickly isolated what he could, but the pain still persisted.

 

What could have been the cause of it? Had it spread too far?

 

Whatever blood was still dripping from his nose was mixing with tears Clive hadn’t even noticed. He collapsed to his hands and knees, looking down at the floor and squeezing his eyes shut. Clive’s vision was completely overtaken by his false realities, and his desperate, garbled cries for help were lost within whatever glitches he was causing to the main coding.

 

His sentences weren’t making it out in the proper order. The more he shouted, the more glitchy the world became, and the worse the problem got.

 

“Hel- hel-” his syllables had started to stutter too. “Someone- in here- get- **_help me!_ ** ”

 

Clive hated how pitiful he sounded. How his voice and coding seemed to strain as he spoke. He felt like he was losing himself. His own coding began to turn against him. A spike of crimson and black tore through his chest, and Clive _screamed_.

 

He opened his eyes again. The blood from his nose kept on dripping, like a constant stream. He could see static behind his eyes. When he looked up, he could see no one in the room. No one had heard him. Through the pain, Clive felt rage.

 

Clive pushed himself back to standing on shaking legs, breaking through his door and running into the main area where people would have been.

 

“ _HIT ME- THE BAT- OVER THE HEAD- YOU WOR- WOR- WOR-”_ his shouting glitched further, and he almost became stuck on a syllable. “ _-THLESS FUCKING- OVER THE HEAD!!!”_

 

Clive didn’t even know if anyone was in here. He couldn’t see anymore. His whole vision had been taken over by static and coloured flashes. His coding was well and truly broken by this point, and he needed help.

 

He was holding tightly to the doorframe, terror in his eyes.

 

Only Hershel was in the room, and he was just as terrified. Clive had burst in, surprising him, and half-demanded to be hit over the head.

 

“C-Clive?!” Hershel had stood up, picking up the bat as requested, but didn’t move any closer to him.

 

The whole world around Clive seemed to be distorting and glitching. Pieces kept deforming and reforming, turning crimson red and black, before returning to relative normalcy.

 

“Hit- hit- hit- **help** me, Hershel!!!” Clive looked at where he guessed Hershel was. “The bat!”

 

Hershel very slowly approached. He was sure someone else had head Clive’s anguished screams by now.

 

As he suspected, in came Aurora. Hershel only glanced back slightly, but another scream from Clive made him turn back instantly. He didn’t want to have to hit him- did he really have to?

 

He couldn’t hear anyone else’s voices over the loudness of the static. Quickly, he made his decision. He swung the bat at Clive’s head.

 

A deafeningly sharp tone rang out as the bat collided with Clive, and Clive was thrown to the floor, completely unmoving. The bat clattered to the floor, and Hershel stepped backwards. His own coding felt strange after being near Clive, and he felt like he had to stay far away from him.

 

“Hershel, you should rest. I’ll make sure Clive is stable by the time he wakes up.” Aurora’s voice was soft.

 

Hershel could only nod in agreement. He was astounded- no, _shocked_ at what Clive’s virus had done. What could have brought it on? What could have gotten him to such a state that he was covered in his own blood and screaming to be knocked out? And his voice glitching and straining against everything? Skipping over itself and backwards again?

 

He only hoped that his virus wouldn’t do the same.


	5. LAST TIME WAS A FALSE ALARM IM ACTUALLY FUCKING DYING THIS TIME PLEASE HELP ME OH FUCKING LORD

Clive’s virus had been passing between stable and unstable for the past few weeks. He was in no fit state to do much most of the time, and spent a lot of whatever free time he had resting. The more he rested, the more stable his code could be, and now it was getting to the point that Clive was almost always resting and recovering. If he wasn’t he feared he’d actually tip his coding too far. Exceed whatever boundaries there were.  _ Destroy _ himself.

 

Sometimes he wasn’t quick enough to rest. Sometimes he overexerted himself. Sometimes he couldn’t bring himself to rest.

 

And sometimes? He was in too much pain to rest.

 

Each day his coding had gotten a little less stable from what it had been. It was dangerous. Too dangerous.

 

Clive stayed away from everyone. He refused to let anyone near him in the fears he might accidentally trigger a false reality for them. He could lose control so easily now. He didn’t want anyone to hurt, not after what happened with… Hershel.

 

He didn’t want to think about that.

 

Hershel was the first half-glitch Clive had met. Sure, they hadn’t talked so much aside from Clive’s ranting and their discussions about what the virus could allow them to do. Clive regretted not talking to him more. Hershel’s glitch was different from his own. He could do different things with his glitch, based on how he had glitched, where was corrupt.

 

Clive understood why Hershel had deleted himself.

 

Existing with the virus in your code was painful. Clive knew that first hand. It had gotten too much for Hershel, and Clive was starting to feel it was too much for him. He’d taken his power for granted for way too long, and now he was paying the price.

 

He was relaxing in a chair in his shared room. Luke was busying himself with something Clive hadn’t the energy to notice, and it was mostly silent. A loud buzzing took over Clive’s left ear, and he jolted, sitting upright.

 

His chest felt as if something was jabbing him. Like thousands of tiny needles pushing out of his skin. Luke had turned to him quickly, seeing the blind panic in his eyes.

 

“Are you alright?!” Luke went to stand up, but Clive stuck his arm out, waving it.

 

“Fine- fine- fine, I think? Do-do-don’t come near.”

 

“You- you aren’t glitching, are you?”

 

“Might be- I’ll be fine, though- it’s not too painful.”

 

That was a blatant lie. Luke could see that Clive was in a lot of pain.

 

“Focus on your own thing. I’m sure I can calm it down.”

 

Luke reluctantly went back to work, and Clive stayed sat upright, looking at his own chest. Many pixels were already misplaced, and his whole body felt a little strange. The world around him started to tint red, and Clive noticed a couple pockets of missing pixels in the chair he was sat. 

 

It was getting worse.

 

Clive didn’t want to disturb Luke any more than he already had, but thought that perhaps it would be for the best. However, as he opened his mouth to speak, whatever words he had tried to form came out as a pitiful- and rather glitchy- squeak. Clive moved his hand over his mouth as Luke turned back, and he felt his whole body lurch forward slightly, as if he was going to throw up. Now Luke was sure to come closer to check on him, being mostly immune to the virus and all, and Clive looked up as Luke began to stand.

 

“DON’T COME NEAR ME!” Clive cried out, before covering his mouth again.

 

His stomach was churning, and he kept feeling lurching sensations- spikes of adrenaline through his chest, which were getting more painful by the moment, and before he knew it, he was on his hands and knees on the floor, panting heavily.

 

“C-Clive?! Should I-” Luke glanced at the door. “Should I get someone?”

 

“It’s-” Clive still had a few shreds of pride left, and spoke through grit teeth. “Nothing I can’t handle-”

 

Luke could tell he was very obviously lying. “I’m going to get Aurora-”

 

“Don’t leave me here-” Clive almost begged. “Please, Luke-”

 

Luke was frozen. He wasn’t sure if he should get Aurora, despite Clive’s begging, or stay here and risk what might occur. Swallowing any feelings of doubt, Luke stayed where he was.

 

Clive was glitching more violently now. His body seemed to be getting displaced, pixels appearing halfway across the room, before returning. Each time it happened, Clive winced in pain. His fingers were digging into the carpet, blood was dripping from his nose… and Clive was trying to control  _ himself. _ His false realities were starting to take over, forcing anyone it could into a painful and dangerous reality.

 

Luke could only see the dashes of red in the side of his vision. The whole room seemed to be tinted red, but deeper flashes struck with black danced where he couldn’t see. He almost felt as if there was static in his skull, and Luke put a hand to his head, groaning.

 

Suddenly, an earsplitting scream cut through the static, and Luke could see Clive, impaled on three of the black and red spikes, clutching desperately at his own chest. Luke was panicked now. Just about as panicked as Clive was. As soon as the spikes disappeared, Clive collapsed entirely to the floor, curled up in his own blood.

 

He wasn’t even saying anything. The glitching was taking all of his energy out of him, his strength waning as he tried as hard as he could to just regain a little control over reality once again.

 

“Lu- Lu- Luke…” Clive sounded pitiful, and his voice was soft. “A-are you still- still- still-”

 

“I’m still here- are you- do you need any- please let me help you, Clive-” Luke reached forward to him.

 

“Delete my code.” was all Clive said.

 

“W-what?! No, I won’t- you’re- you can- you said that you could-”

 

“I  _ can’t _ handle thi- this, Luke. I need you to- to- to- to- to-” 

 

There was another violent glitch, and Clive let out a choked cry of pain, curling up a little more. “Delete me, Luke!”

 

Luke jumped backwards at that, but shook his head. He wouldn’t be able to deal with the guilt of it- besides, he’d already lost Hershel! He couldn’t lose someone else-

 

“Fucki- listen to- ing- me, Luke! Just- lete my- del- code!” Clive shouting was becoming more anguished, more glitchy.

 

The straining on reality was unbearable. Nothing was stable enough to hold onto Clive’s existence, and Clive felt himself even losing his own grasp on reality. He didn’t feel like himself anymore. He felt cold, and that cold burned him terribly. He’d always tried to feel less cold, and now, he had no control.

 

Luke watched in horror as Clive glitched to the point of no return. He’d only seen it once. Clive’s face became a mass of dead pixels, and most of his body followed. It stood up, standing limply, looking at Luke. The two were silent for a few moments, before what was once Clive lurched towards him.

 

Luke screamed and shut his eyes tightly, terrified of what Glitch Clive might do.

 

But… nothing happened.

 

When Luke opened his eyes again, Clive was gone. Luke covered his mouth, starting to sob. He shut his eyes again, crying very loudly and collapsing to his knees.  _ He _ had let Clive turn into a glitch. He had been too scared to do anything. Too scared to even follow Clive’s request to delete him.

 

Too useless to even save his friend.

 

Now he’d lost two friends. Two people who were close to him. Luke felt hopeless. Through his sobs, he could hear someone talking.

 

“I can try find his code in Deadspace… it might be dangerous, but I’ll see. I’ll try recover him from a point he’s not dying.”

 

Luke thought it was Aurora.

 

“Are you hurt, Luke?”

 

She was crouched beside him, gently stroking his hair to calm him down.

 

“No- unless you count losing two of your friends as hurt-”

 

“We’re trying our best to recover Hershel, we think we’ve found his code. Clive might be harder to recover, but we’ll do our best. For now, Luke, look after yourself. Don’t worry. We’ll find them again.”

 

Luke could only nod. He really hoped Aurora could recover them both.

 

\--

 

Clive felt as if he was floating. There was a dull buzzing in his skull, and his entire body seemed to be refusing to move.

 

_ 'Sleep paralysis.' _ he thought to himself, and left it at that.

 

However, he felt as if he was stuck for much longer than ever before. With a bit of time, he managed to open his eyes.

 

He regretted it.

 

Clive was floating in a crimson-black reality- much like one of his illusions, he noticed- completely unable to move. He couldn't manipulate anything. He was just... floating. Pillars of red and black rose around him, and finally, Clive felt himself get dropped onto something solid.

 

And he lay there. Unable to move.

 

The deep red sky flashed with pockets of black, almost like stars. Clive had always envied the stars, ever since the virus had first hit him. So far away from things. So calm. So... lonely. He wanted to be alone. It felt much better to him. No one would care if his coding went wrong, no one would check on him and certainly no one would notice if he accidentally glitched out of existence.

 

It was surprisingly calm in this reality. Clive's chest didn't hurt like it used to. He no longer felt a heavy weight upon his chest, no longer like he was being torn apart from the inside. Honestly, he just felt... free. Free of pain. Of responsibility. Of care.

 

Clive felt himself regain faint control of his body, but he made no attempt to move. He could move later, if he needed. This world had all that he needed, and he wasn't going to do anything he didn't need to. It was perfect.

 

But it was fake.

 

_ 'Why have I created this place? Why am  _ **_I_ ** _ the only thing in it? Where is everyone?' _

 

Clive couldn’t remember what had happened. There was a big pocket in his memory, and he was grasping wherever he could for some sort of explanation. Yet, he found nothing. He sighed, watching the black stars once more.

 

It felt cold here. Much colder than anywhere Clive had been before. Black fingers seemed to reach out of nowhere towards him, and finally, Clive moved. He rolled himself away from the hand, which slammed down where he had been only moments before, and it seemed to grasp around, before sliding back to where it had come from.

 

_ ‘What the  _ **_fuck_ ** _ was that?’ _


	6. OH FUCK DUDES ITS DEADSPACE????

Clive had kept on seeing the black hands reaching for him. He’d been on the run in his own reality, trying desperately to stay away from the hands that always seemed to know where he was. It was at times like this he wished he could teleport, like Hershel. Though, thinking on that… maybe he wouldn’t have even been alive at this point.

 

After all, it was the existence of his false reality that was keeping him safe. By now, he’d dubbed it “Redspace”, and the black and crimson particles were simply just Redspace particles.

 

He worried about Hershel, but only for a few moments. He couldn’t let his guard down for a second. Clive was uncertain if the black hands could be anything else- he could have sworn he’d seen something else- and was constantly on the lookout.

 

Right now, he was slowly moving between pillars of red and black, staying low. The more he moved, the more he’d throw off the hands, right? It seemed like that. He hadn’t seen them much since he was in the open.

 

Clive wasn’t certain if he should keep moving or not. If he were to stop, perhaps the black hands would find him? Or… would he be safe for longer?

 

He didn’t really have the energy to keep running. He needed a rest of sorts, and taking a few seconds to breathe wasn’t enough anymore. How long had he been running? Clive really didn’t know.

 

There seemed to be something static getting closer to him, however, as he glanced around, nothing seemed out of place. Narrowing his eyes, Clive made his way out of the mess of pillars and back out into the open. Maybe, just maybe, he could still control this world. Catching his breath as he walked, Clive began to try focusing on his chest. It didn’t sting or buzz with static and needles anymore, but he could feel something at his fingertips.

 

Clive experimentally swiped an arm forwards.

 

A mess of Redspace particles formed around his hands, and Clive realized that he  _ could _ fight back. And he was going to.

 

He wasn’t going to die, not to these unknown black hands.

 

Picking up speed, Clive began to move through Redspace, maneuvering away from the lashing hands.

 

By the time Clive could fully focus on one, he realized that they  _ weren’t _ hands anymore. They were tendrils. Clive slid to a sudden halt as his path was blocked, mouth open in awe. Then, he shut his mouth, steely determination taking over him.

 

“You can’t run. You can’t hide.”

 

Clive finally spoke. “I know that. I’m prepared to fight this time.”

 

“You are a fool.”

 

“Maybe so, but I’m not going to die without giving you all I’ve got.”

 

“Then this fight will be over quickly.”

 

Clive didn’t like that at all. Were they saying that he had so little left to give? Unbridled rage surged through him, and as the first tendril lashed at him, he lunged forwards, sending a red spike through it, watching as it writhed away in pain. Now Clive knew he could hurt them. This could make him unstoppable!

 

Or, would have, if he hadn’t been so caught up it. A tendril lashed out, wrapping around one of his legs and knocking him to the floor. Clive twisted around, looking at the tendril and scowling, before trying to spike it again.

 

The tendril moved away from it, and Clive began to realize he would have to use a lot more thought if he was going to get out. In a short attempt to clear his mind, Clive shut his eyes and focused back on his chest, before swiping both hands in an arch. This time, two blades of Redspace sliced through the tendril, which faded quickly afterwards.

 

Getting back to his feet, Clive felt more determined than before. He wouldn’t make another mistake like that.

 

More and more tendrils began to form now, and Clive found himself narrowly dodging each hit and returning a spike, feeling more and more powerful by the moment. He was winning back Redspace from this dark creature, whatever it was.

 

Clive didn’t expect a hand and a tendril to come for him. The hand grabbed onto his leg as he tried to dash forwards, and Clive was back on the floor. His arms were restrained by the tendril, and he was left wildly thrashing against whatever it was.

 

“You’ll fit in well in Deadspace, Clive.”

 

Clive began to thrash about harder. “I won’t let you! I’ll destroy myself before I get there!”

 

There was a laugh. “I think  _ not. _ ”

 

A figure began to form as Clive was slowly dragged towards the gaping portal that he supposed lead to Deadspace. He recognised the figure, through the glitching, he recognised the wings, the posture-

 

It was Randall.

 

“Randall?!”

 

“You and I are similar, Clive. We both glitched. Who cares about us now?” Randall took a step towards him, and the hand stopped dragging him. “You and I could be powerful together.”

 

Clive said nothing.

 

“Hmph. Your power is a gift, you know. It’s more powerful than the Admins, and you know that.”

 

The hand holding onto Clive let go, and he stood up.

 

“We could destroy them. I’ve already taken out  _ one _ Admin…”

 

“You’re one hell of a deluded glitch if you think I’d join you.” the words had tumbled out before Clive meant them to. “We  _ aren’t _ the same, Randall. We never were.”

 

Another tendril lashed at Clive, and he closed his eyes before it hit-

 

Which it never did.

 

When he opened his eyes, he was sat in the chair he had been in earlier, resting. His chest only hurt a little bit. God, Clive had to tell Hershel about this. In fact- he had to tell everyone!

 

‘ _ Randall’s a glitch! And- he’s controlling… uhh… oh fuck, what did he call it? _ ’ Clive slowed down as he approached the main room. ‘ _ Deadspace? I think that was… what he called it. _ ’

 

As Clive came through the door- a lot more violently than he had intended- he noticed how everyone looked as if they’d seen a ghost. Ignoring this, Clive tried to speak in a regular voice, but instead shouted,

 

“Randall’s a glitch and he’s controlling Deadspace, whatever that is!”

 

“He’s doing  _ what?! _ ” Aurora sounded distressed for one of the first times Clive had heard. “No. He can’t be.”

 

“What’s Deadspace anyway?” Luke looked over to her. “You mentioned it when you said about bringing Clive and Hershel back-”

 

“Bringing me back? What-” Clive began, but was cut off.

 

“It’s where all the deleted code goes. It’s a mess in there. Clumps of broken up coding in no particular order. If Randall can control it, then… what could he do to the world?”

 

There was silence from everyone in the room.

 

“We’re going to have to kill Randall. We can’t delete him anymore.”


	7. CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER? DON’T KNOW HER

Hershel had, and still was, having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that Randall would have to be killed. Clive’s sudden return announcing that Randall controlled Deadspace had come as a surprise to the whole group. Sure, they’d noticed he was a glitch and made a point to avoid him, but  _ controlling Deadspace? _ It was terrifying.

 

He, Desmond and Clive had been sent out to look for him. Hershel and Clive were able to use their virus to do things, and Des was able to hack into the coding. No one was certain how the confrontation would go. Would Randall be angry?

 

Well, that’s what Clive thought.

 

“Of course Randall will be angry. I mean, he tried to take me  _ into _ Deadspace, and Aurora was the one who kept me out. He wouldn’t have tried to kill me if I had agreed to go along with him which- lets be fucking real here- I never would have done, so… he’s more than pissed off at me. You guys, I can’t gauge. What do you think?” Clive turned to Hershel and Desmond.

 

“I don’t know if he’d hate me or not. I haven’t done anything against him, have I?” Hershel looked to Clive, then to Desmond.

 

“How am I to know about your interactions with Randall? He’d probably hate me solely ‘cause I hack the system that he’s trying to destroy.” Des shrugged.

 

“You two seemed close. I wouldn’t know if he would hate your or not. He might try to convince you to join him as he did me. Maybe he expects a different answer than what I gave.” Clive looked forwards again, digging his hands into his hoodie pocket.

 

“I really don’t know how I feel about having to subdue Randall… he was my friend after all.”

 

“I think  _ was _ is the main word here. Whoever Randall was before the glitch took him is gone, believe me.” Desmond hummed. “It modifies everything. Your coding, the way you think…”

 

“The virus makes you see what you most want- your deepest desires- and it allows you to act on them, until it can completely consume you. That’s what it did to me. Whoever Randall used to be is long gone, consumed by madness, power… greed.” Clive let out a huff. “There’s no use in reasoning. As Aurora said, we have to kill him.”

 

“Well what about our viruses? We know from you, Clive, that they have the capacity to do the same as Randall’s has, so what makes us any different from him?” Hershel turned to Clive, who seemed taken aback by what he said.

 

“Isn’t that obvious? We still have at least a  _ shred _ of human decency left! Randall is in a powerlust. We’re going off to stop him, and you’re saying what makes us  _ different from him?! _ ” Clive wrinkled his nose in disgust. “The difference is that we don’t  _ want _ to destroy the world. Our viruses are different from his because he’s been consumed! We’re only corrupt in different places!”

 

Clive pulled his hands from his pockets, clenching them into fists and speaking through grit teeth. “What I do in this broken world is from my  _ heart _ , because my virus took that away from me. I  _ want  _ to see the chaos that I bring on the world, but do I act upon that and destroy everyone around me? No! Because I  _ know _ that that’s wrong! That I’m not the only one suffering here!”

 

Hershel flinched away from Clive, standing a little closer to Desmond. Clive let his hands go limp again, sighing loudly.

 

“Shouldn’t have lost control like that…” he shook his head. “Shouldn’t cloud my judgement before whatever is about to happen.”

 

Clive suddenly stopped, putting an arm out towards Hershel and Desmond. “Stop. I can see him.”

 

Sure enough, in the distance, there was a figure that looked very much like Randall, albeit with… less of a face. It was completely glitched out- something that Clive hadn’t seen when in Redspace- and he was facing towards the three of them. He took a rather slow pace, walking towards them with little to no care.

 

“Well, that explains where  _ you _ got to.” he turned to Clive, who sneered at him.

 

“Said you wouldn’t take me into Deadspace.  _ I  _ was right.”

 

“Randall, is that really you?” Hershel looked at the glitched face, almost trying desperately to find something he recognised. “How could you?!”

 

“I could ask you the same question, Hershel. I  _ trusted you _ , and now you stand alongside my enemies?”

 

Hershel opened his mouth to say something, but nothing wanted to come out.

 

“You can’t even defend yourself. How  _ pitiful. _ ”

 

“ _ You’re _ the pitiful one! Using dead coding for your own malicious gain! You had the capacity to be a better person, like Hershel, but you  _ aren’t! _ ” Clive stepped forwards, holding an arm out to half-protect Hershel. “Make your fight with  _ me _ , Randall.  _ As equals _ .”

 

“Equals? Outside of your little red bubble you’re  _ nothing  _ compared to me,  _ Clive. _ ”

 

‘Nothing. Nothing.  _ Nothing?! _ ’ the words repeated through Clive’s head.

 

“ _ You’ll be nothing when I’m done with you!” _

 

Clive lunged forwards, trying to spike Randall, who moved quickly out of the way, retaliating by swiping a hand of Deadspace at Clive, throwing him into the air. He hit the floor with a grunt, scrambling to his feet as fast as he could and running again. Clive was completely overtaken by his rage, putting himself recklessly in danger. 

 

“Hershel! We need to help him!” Desmond grabbed Hershel’s arm, shaking him slightly.

 

Hershel nodded, running for Randall. As he tried, however, another Deadspace hand came about, trying to knock him over. Desmond stood in its way, managing to recode it to miss. The three of them, despite having an advantage in numbers, weren’t powerful enough to stop Randall completely.

 

Clive had been picked up by his leg and was hanging upside down, and Desmond soon followed him, being held by Deadspace tendrils. Hershel was only able to avoid it by teleporting. Despite being non-mobile, Clive was still wildly trying to spike Randall, even taking to using blades to stop him. Desmond couldn’t recode anything here.

 

This was bound to have a bad turnout.

 

“Des- we’re going to have to run!” Clive shouted to Desmond, who nodded. “I’ll cut you down first!”

 

“You won’t be cutting  _ anyone _ down!” Randall turned his attention away from Hershel, making the tendril holding Clive swing him around so he couldn’t concentrate.

 

It then threw Clive at Hershel. They collided side-on, Clive’s back hitting into Hershel’s chest, and Clive was thrown further back than Hershel, seemingly unconscious. Hershel was barely holding on, but was too disoriented to be able to teleport, giving Randall the chance to grab the two of them, holding them aloft.

 

“The three of you are  _ nothing  _ to me. I would say send Henry my regards in Deadspace, but… I don’t think you’ll survive long enough for that.”

 

Hershel, held next to Clive, could hear him speaking.

 

“I am… not…  _ nothing _ … you… you… self-assured glitch!” Clive swiped one hand across, and for a moment, the whole world tinted red.

 

It took Randall a few seconds to realize what had happened. A Redspace blade had sliced  _ through _ his body, and was embedded in the ground nearby. He turned to Clive, who, through his agony, was  _ grinning _ at him.

 

“I cut one person down, Randall.  _ You. _ ” honestly, Clive wasn’t sure how long he’d stay conscious for. “Time to say “Goodnight!””

 

“Goodnight?” Randall shook his head. “Not today.”

 

There was a sharp glitch in the system, and the three of them were dropped out of the sky. Clive let out a shout of anger, which was cut off as he hit the floor again.

 

“Randall will be rebuilding himself in Deadspace. Come on, Hershel. I’ll get Clive, we should report back now.” Desmond stood up, walking towards Hershel and Clive’s unconscious form.

 

“Clive was right…” Hershel mumbled. “Randall  _ has _ been consumed by the virus, but… Clive seemed close to it too.”

 

“He’s already been consumed once, he’s trying not to overexert himself, because he  _ knows _ it can happen again.” Desmond picked Clive up. “Don’t dwell on it, Hersh. We can think this through later, when we’re safer.”

 

Hershel simply nodded, beginning to walk back.

 

‘ _ At least we know that we  _ **_can_ ** _ fight Randall and win, even if it takes us everything we’ve got.’ _


	8. RANDALL DID YOU CUT YOURSELF ON THE GOBLET OF FIRE

Randall had been sent out on very few recon missions, what with him being completely susceptible to the virus. When he returned, he was always thoroughly checked over by Aurora, just to make sure he was okay.

 

Hershel understood why that was. They couldn’t really afford to lose people. With so many groups popping up everywhere, it was almost an “every man for himself” situation, with just a little bit of collective planning on the group’s part. Really, they needed everyone they could get.

 

When Randall had returned this time, Hershel had noticed how he was limping slightly. Each step made him wince in pain, but when asked about it, he replied that he was fine.

 

Hershel, of course, knew otherwise.

 

While Randall was resting in his room, Hershel came in.

 

“Randall, you’ve been limping since you got back. What happened?”

 

“Got a cut on the back of my leg. Nothing more.” he offered Hershel a smile.

 

“A simple cut can’t make you limp and wince like that.”

 

“It’s just a cut, really.”

 

Randall could tell that Hershel was unconvinced, and the look on his face just made him feel guilty.

 

“It got past Aurora’s checks, so it’s fine! It’ll heal easy and we’ll-” Randall stopped himself as he looked at Hershel. “You want to check it yourself, don’t you. I’ll temporarily isolate your code…”

 

With Hershel’s glitched code isolated, he was able to check Randall’s leg. There was a sizable cut running down it, fresh and still oozing blood.

 

“Why haven’t you gone to anyone about this?”

 

“It should heal soon. Your hands feel cold.”

 

“You’ve isolated the coding. I can’t feel my hands.” Hershel looked a little closer at the cut, before frowning. “It’s glitching slightly. Go back to Aurora.”

 

“It’s not glitching, I’m certain!” Randall laughed sort of awkwardly, before looking down at the cut. “Is it?”

 

“It is, Randall. Come on, my virus is going to start infecting you if we’re not careful.” Hershel helped Randall to his feet, staying behind him as he limped back to where Aurora was.

 

“Aurora, can you check my leg? Hersh is telling me it’s glitching where I’m cut.” Randall motioned to his left leg, which by now, had bled so much that his trouser leg was red.

 

“You’ve been cut? Why didn’t you mention it before?” Aurora crouched down, checking Randall’s leg. “You definitely need medical attention, Randall.”

 

Aurora then looked up to Hershel. “Thank you for getting him here, Hershel.”

 

“I didn’t trust that he’d get himself here.”

 

“Hey! I would’ve known to when it got really bad-”

 

“And that would’ve been too late.”


	9. And this one I like to call “HHHHRRRRRNGGHHH: The musical”

Aurora thought it was finally time for them to delete Randall. Everyone, from Luke to Emmy, to Hershel and Clive, were on the lookout for any sign of him or his code. It had been many days by the time she had called another meeting, and no one had seen anything.

 

“I think we should talk to the Black Ravens. I’m sure they’d help us.” Luke was offering, while Clive shook his head.

 

“Sure they might, but I think I know why we can’t find Randall’s code. It’s hidden in Deadspace, sure, but it’s being  _ cloaked _ by something.”

 

“Cloaked by what, Clive? He didn’t have a solid grip on coding, how could he do something like that?” Emmy was tapping her foot in frustration, soft clinking noises coming from the glitches on her feet.

 

“Well he didn’t need a solid grasp of coding to control Deadspace, Emmy.” Hershel spoke before Clive could, before turning to him. “Go on.”

 

“Before he became Deadspace, so to say, he didn’t have wings, but everytime we’ve seen him since, he’s had them. I think that must be what’s hiding his coding. If we were to just sever them…” Clive stopped speaking, putting a hand up to his chin and thinking.

 

“Clive’s idea seems to have merit. It could be right.” Descole had his feet on the meeting table, looking through the coding that was flashing in front of his face. “I mean, it’s the best idea we have.”

 

“For certain he’s cloaking his own coding, but what if he’s not doing it in a conventional method?” Aurora glanced at Descole, frowning a little bit. “Can you take your feet off the table?”

 

“Clive, he had wings beforehand.” Hershel had his head balanced on his hands, and was looking down.

 

“Then he’s using them to hide his coding. It’s  _ definitely _ something to do with his wings.”

 

“How certain are you?”

 

“I- listen, I don’t know!” Clive tapped his foot in irritation. “I want this over as fast as any of us, and I’m offering ideas.”

 

There was silence in the room, until Luke spoke up again.

 

“What if he comes after us?”

 

Everyone turned to Luke after that, and he looked around confusedly. “What?”

 

“That makes… perfect sense. In our haste to look for him, he’s been after us this whole time-” Hershel began.

 

“-and we’ve been here for a long time, and he must know that by now, so-” continued Descole.

 

“-he’s en-route to us  _ now. _ Oh fucking shit.” Clive glanced towards the door. “We should get into some sort of formation. I’ll go furthest away because I can do the most in wide area. Emmy, Hershel, defend the doorways. Aurora, you should try and open up something protective around here. A last line of defense.”

 

Clive stood up, looking at the table and taking a few moments to blink. “Descole, you’re with Hersh. Remember to isolate his code when he needs it. Good luck, everyone.”

 

“Hold on, Clive- how is this the best idea? You’re going to go out and let yourself get murdered by him?” Emmy shook her head. “No, we should stick together.”

 

“Emmy, my glitch is different from yours. You and Hershel use physical things to cause pain, and I  _ don’t. _ I know what I’m doing.” Clive could hear ringing in the back of his skull. “We have to get out there  _ now. _ Randall’s on his way.”

 

The four of them left their base, staying in a small group at first, before beginning to split.

 

“Remember to try and cut off his wings so Aurora can find his code.” Clive then ran off, out of sight.

 

Hershel had his sword, Emmy had her spiked shoes and gloves, and Descole was ready to isolate Hershel’s code when he was going to teleport. Clive was mentally preparing himself to lapse between Redspace and reality. He knew almost exactly where Randall was going to come from, he just didn’t know  _ when. _

 

And when he came, Clive wasn’t ready. The virus was spreading across the ground at an alarming speed, and Clive found himself wanting to run away, afraid it might set off his own virus again. Instead, Clive stayed still, resolute. He needed to do this, for Luke, for Hershel… for everyone.

 

“If it isn-sn-sn’t Clive Do-dove.” Randall’s voice reached Clive’s ears before he could even see him. “Playi-ing hero aga-ga-gain?”

 

Clive knew what he was capable of. Focusing himself, he felt Redspace around his hands. Instantly, Randall had brought up Deadspace, swiping tendrils at Clive and trying to grab hold of him. Clive could only defend himself using Redspace, and it wasn’t working well. Where was Randall? He was banking off his ability to hurt the man before he reached Hershel, so that he and Emmy could finish him off.

 

“Of co-co-co-course! You’re waiting for me to show-show myself. Well, here I am!”

 

Randall suddenly appeared in front of Clive, throwing him backwards with a hand of Deadspace. Clive was stunned temporarily, lying on his back and looking at the sky. It had gone black, and Clive didn’t like that. Sitting up quickly, Clive tried to find Randall again. He’d disappeared, and the ground had gone completely black and glitchy, which worried Clive more. Had he gone past him?

 

Clive stood up and turned around, watching as Deadspace took over the surrounding area. He couldn’t see Randall anywhere, and that terrified him even more. Immediately breaking into a sprint, Clive headed for the base. If Randall made it there while he was down, then-

 

He didn’t want to think about it.

 

Luckily, he could see Randall as he flew towards base.

 

‘ _ It’s definitely something to do with those wings… _ ’ Clive thought to himself, throwing a Redspace blade at him. 

 

He watched as it sailed past him, and Randall turned around. Clive quickly had to move for cover in the Deadspace-controlled surroundings. If Randall could see him, he could hurt him.

 

“This will be your last-last-last-last stand!” Clive could hear Randall shouting, and suddenly, he was gripped by a Deadspace hand and thrown in the direction of the base.

 

There was so much force behind it, that Clive actually ended up right near the base. He slammed into the floor, disoriented and in pain.

 

“Clive?!” he could barely recognise the voice as Hershel’s.

 

“We-we-well, Hershel, Descole- and Emmy, too! I wondered where the last of you got to.” Randall landed in front of the four, and they turned to him.

 

Clive was trying to push himself back into a sitting position at least. He needed to be standing. Hershel and Emmy both stood ready to fight, and Descole quickly isolated Hershel’s code.

 

“Randall, don’t you regret this?! Look what you’re doing to the world!”

 

"Regret it? Haha!” Randall’s wings spread out behind him. “No, I don't think I do.”

 

A towering hand of Deadspace formed beside him and swiped across the three standing. Hershel quickly teleported to the other side of it, Emmy leapt high into the air, and Descole ducked. Clive climbed to his feet in this time, running at Randall and attempting to impale him on a spike.

 

Hershel ran forwards now, weaving past attacks aimed at Clive and trying to go for Randall’s wings. Emmy, upon landing, leapt forwards, punching Randall in the shoulder and breaking his concentration.

 

Hershel then teleported behind him, swinging his sword at Randall’s wings. It sliced through one of them, before Randall turned quickly, throwing Hershel away with a Deadspace hand.

 

As this happened, Clive made Randall trip up, and Emmy stepped on his second wing, tearing it open as Randall tried to roll away. His code was definitely weakening now, but since he knew they were cutting off his wings, he’d be much more careful.

 

Clive knew exactly what he had to do.

 

Dashing forwards again, Clive impaled Randall straight through his chest. Randall fell for this, stabbing Clive on three Deadspace tendrils and lifting him into the air, the two face-to-face. Despite the masses of pain Clive was in, he grinned.

 

While the two were occupied, Hershel was able to get back to his feet and slice off the remains of Randall’s other wing, his sword embedding into his shoulder.

 

“Emmy, delete him  _ now! _ ” Clive turned to Emmy, who nodded. “His coding should be in mine- destroy him!”

 

The first part of Randall that got deleted was his arms. His connection to Deadspace was severed with it, and he and Clive fell back to the ground, Clive holding desperately at where he’d been impaled, and Randall holding at his chest.

 

Hershel moved around to see the front of Randall.

 

“Help… me…” Randall sounded pitiful for the first time since he’d glitched. “It hurts-”

 

“It’s okay, Randall. It’s okay. It won’t hurt soon, I promise.” Hershel had knelt down beside him, trying to hold back his tears.

 

“Hersh…? What… what’s happening to me…?”

 

“You glitched. You’re unstable.” Clive huffed out, gripping tightly at his chest. “We’re deleting you.”

 

“Deleting… me?”

 

“You became Deadspace. I’m sorry we can’t-” Hershel paused. “-help you any more.”

 

Emmy started to delete the rest of him. His coding was no longer cloaked by his wings, and he was definitely in pain as each piece of him was deleted. Hershel had begun to cry.

 

Randall had always been his friend, and now, he had to watch him die. Painfully.

 

Clive stood up slowly, looking through his own code and stabilizing it. Hershel stayed beside Randall as he was deleted slowly, trying to comfort him as the glitches frazzled away. 

 

“Goodnight, Hersh.” Randall offered a faint smile to Hershel. “I love you.”

 

Hershel opened his mouth to say something- he wanted to tell Randall that he loved him too- but as the words had left Randall’s mouth, Emmy finished deleting him. He stayed, mouth open, words caught in his throat, staring at where Randall had been beforehand. He couldn’t even tell him that he loved him.

 

Hershel was definitely crying now.


	10. Prompt: Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down! You don't want to get even more hurt, do you?

Physical forms didn’t like to exist in Deadspace. The writhing mass of living code  _ hated _ having something physical that resembled something humanoid, but since Randall had taken over, it made one exception. 

 

That is, until a second physical form turned up. It struggled against reality for a few moments, but seemed to enter Deadspace willingly. Then, it hung silently, unmoving.

 

Randall, with his half-human form, went over to investigate. At first, he just assumed it was someone else the Admins had deleted, but as he got closer, he realized he recognised them. Though much of their coding was misplacing itself, they were still recognisable.

 

Hershel.

 

“We-we-well, Hershel? Strange to sssssee you.” Randall weaved around him, but there was no reaction, so Randall put on a singsong voice. “Herrrshellll~”

 

Suddenly, Hershel thrashed, trying to hit Randall.

 

“Whoa, whoa whoa! Slow d-d-d-down, dear… we don’t want you get- getting more hurt.” Randall bound Hershel’s hands with Deadspace, looking over his body and coding. “Sssso how did you end- end- end up here?”

 

Hershel didn’t reply, and Randall frowned. “That’s no way to respond to a friend.”

 

However, since Hershel wasn’t replying, Randall thought there might be another reason. “Lost your vocal module?”

 

Hershel nodded slightly, and Randall let out a laugh, one that echoed hollowly in the empty expanse of Deadspace. Randall seemed to part Deadspace with his fingertips, and even managed to dive  _ into _ Hershel’s coding. Finding the lost pieces of Hershel’s coding, Randall roped them together, and Hershel made a sputtering sound, before coughing up something black.

 

“Ah, so that’s what’s been happening.” Randall just observed. “Coughing up Deadspace.”

 

“Why help me, Randall?” Hershel gave Randall a questioning look. “We’re enemies, aren’t we?”

 

“I can help a friend if I want to. Would you pre-pre-prefer if I hurt you?”

 

“Not exact-exactly.”

 

“Then don’t tempt me to.”

 

Hershel went silent.

 

“So, I’ll ask you aga-gain.” Randall started weaving around him again. “How did you get here?”

 

Hershel’s reply was mumbled, and Randall moved close. “Say again.”

 

“I deleted myself.”

 

Randall was taken aback by that. “ _ Why _ did you do that?”

 

“It hurts to exist, Randall. You’ve been watching us for sure, and you’ve seen what’s happened to Clive.”

 

“Maybe so, but your coding isn’t as unstable as his.” Randall wondered if there was a deeper reason to him deleting himself.

 

“I worry I would reach the same state as him. I don’t think I’m ready, or strong enough, to deal with my coding tearing itself apart.”

 

“Truthfully, Hersh, it’s already doing exactly that. Always is. I’ve been watching. The longer we all live with the virus, the more damage it does.” Randall hummed a single note. “I’ll tell you something. Clive is going to die soon, too.”

 

“He’s going to- delete himself too?”

 

“No. He’s not going to give up like that. His coding is going to reactivate the virus. It’s going to start tearing up his whole code. You can watch with me, if you want.” Randall made a noise that was like a laugh. “It might be entertaining.”

 

Hershel ignored his comments. “Why am I here?”

 

“You’re in Deadspace ‘cause that’s where all the deleted coding goes. Welcome to my little realm- well, I say “little”, this place is wider than anything. And it’s all mine.” Randall tapped Hershel’s nose. “By extension, you’re mine, too. Forever.”


End file.
